Friday night in the pitch flipping BLACK of a zero light pollution landscape, no noise (the crickets aren’t noise!), and no one around, going on night number six!  Except for a few brief minutes on Monday I’ve not spoken with another soul in six days.  At night I’ve heard the coyotes, a horse, and not much else!  You see the ladies are on the road and will continue to be on the road, or I’ll be back out there.

It’s a strange thing when you’re in a paradise and alone.  I mean yes, I am surrounded by the green and blue of this island, the river, the rocks, the trees and the super wild life in all directions all the time but where is that “art conversation”?  Where is that amusing story about a summer afternoon thirty summers ago?


Sunrise on the Range, Sept. 9, 2016.  You see just one short year ago this little hide out was a busy place with the back to school routine but that’s gone!  Just a short four weeks ago this place was a wild party!  Well that party is over.  And so these past few mornings I’ve been brutally alone on the landscape, watching these things:




Watching in silence.  And wondering…


Back in art school one of my fellow students said, after we’d walked the AGO from one end to the other, top floor down through to the bottom, “You can’t have too much art in one day!”  We retired to some grungy beer parlour on Dundas for drinks and convo around what we’d just seen.  I got to thinking about that time while watching the leaves on the willow light up.  Also got to thinking about that fellow art student and wondered where they are now…

And so I hit the brushes!  Like I have in the past several mornings.  One of the things I came up with, one of four, looks like this:


Acrylic on canvas board, 7×9 inches.  I think it was yesterday afternoon I got to wondering where that book of ghost stories my sister had back at the Ranch in Mindemoya, c. the summer of 1979, had gotten to.  There was a horrific story in that paper back about the poor lads sailing the Essex, young sailor Owen Coffin, and their wild high jinx, lost at sea in 1820/21.  Let me tell you that story stayed with me over the years but I’m away from the above painting:  the cover of that book of ghost stories also stayed with me and inspired this painting and three others.

Truth is I worried for a few minutes about what folks might think may have happened to this artist but all four are now long gone.

Of course I was working on others including a big one called:  Ursa Major at New Moon.  That one will be shipping out tomorrow.  If the owner is cool with it, I’ll post a photo of said painting here.

And in the spirit of my old art school friend’s good words:  I put my brushes down and went back to the river for the 2 o’clock.


So many places to stand or to sit and watch the world go by.


And so we work through day six and into the night of, thinking and dreaming of yesterday, today and tomorrow, and the arrival of.  But in the time in-between it is me alone once again with the half moon, a few thousand crickets, the super dark, my own voice, a cabernet from Spain, one candle, my brown legs and feet and what?